The Path of Destiny
by Hobbilobicus60
Summary: Aedan Cousland has lost his family, betrayed by Arl Howe. Now a Grey Warden, he must face his duty before he can seek out his vengeance. Rated M to be safe.  Very detailed fight scenes  I don't own Dragon Ages or any characters. I just love the game  D
1. Prologue: A Hero's Birth

Chapter 1

I stood with my arms crossed, watching the scene unfold before me. Standing atop the main gatehouse of Ostagar, the last stronghold for the Grey Wardens, I had a large view of the uncomfortable sight. Marching out of the Korcari Wilds was a horde of what Alistair had claimed was the Darkspawn; ravenous monsters that fed on animals and men alike. Alistair had claimed that when he first fought, he hadn't quite been ready. I had to agree with him. My first fight with the creatures was no more than a week ago, and I still hadn't quite gotten over the experience. Sharp teeth, grotesque skin, bulging eye, they were abominations, rightly deserving the title monsters.

Duke growled angrily at the black mass that seeped out of the forest like a plague. I could hear the dull beat of war drums. A tingle of fear crawled down my spine, but I did my best to calm myself. I fingered the hilt of the family sword hanging at my belt. Arl Howe had betrayed my family, killing all in the castle and sparing no one. The memory of my parent's face, laying in the larder in a last stand to buy Duncan and I enough time to escape through the servant's entrance, burned my heart to know that anyone could do such a thing to people like that. It ached to think that I would never see my family again. It felt as though my heart didn't beat as much as throb, painfully throbbing in my chest.

Arl Howe, the traitor. Oh, how that name seared through my mind! Sudden thoughts of sliding the Cousland sword through his chest, watching the light leave his betraying, murderous eyes...I shook my head, remembering my father's last words. "We have always done our duty. Vengeance will have to wait until our duty is finished." The sound of his voice reverberated in my ears, and seemed to linger.

I bent down to one knee, the suit of chainmail I now wore jingling as I moved, I wrapped my mailed hands around Duke's face, looking him in the eyes.

"After this Blight, after we kill this army of darkspawn, after my duty if finished, I will kill Arl Howe. This I swear, by my word as a Cousland," I told him. I was returned by an empathetic lick and the intelligent light that shined in his eyes told me that he understood my every word.

"And you're going to help, aren't ya boy," I told him, and ruffled his ears playfully. He barked happily, and it seemed as if enough, for that brief moment, that everything was alright.

"At least your dog is friendly to you," I heard Alistair say from behind me. "I'm surprised he hasn't bitten your nose off already."

"I told you not to try to pet him so soon," I reminded him with a playful smile. "He's a bit...distrustful around strangers."

"I'll say," he exclaimed. "Your dog nearly took off my hand!" He raised his hand up to me to make his point. It was, of course, completely unharmed.

"Ya know, I think you're just trying to come up with a way to get Duke in trouble," I said suspiciously.

"Of course not," Alistair said. "I just want him to apologize."

I rolled my eyes at him and looked down at Duke, who was pointedly looking away from Alistair. After a moment, I gently nudged him with my foot. "Go on," I prodded. Duke gave a reluctant growl and looked at Alistair with clear resentment. Yet, he swallowed his pride and gave a dramatic sigh, walked over to Alistair, and reached out with the tip of his nose.

Alistair glanced at me nervously, but I gave him a nod of encouragement. I hoped my smile wouldn't tip him off to what I could guess Duke might do. Alistair looked back down to Duke and cautiously extended his hand to the war hound. When his fingers were mere inches away from Duke's nose, the dog leaped up and covered Alistair's hand with his jaws. It was only a little nip, but Alistair had leaped back hard enough to fall on his rump with a yelp.

I burst out laughing, doubling over while Duke was hopping about happily, barking his joy at the success of his joke. "Hey, that's not funny, you big twit," Alistair protested. "You almost took my bloody arm off!"

Duke responded by burying Alistair underneath his 250 pound body, covering his face with licks. Alistair tried to wriggle free, but couldn't push clear of Duke's stocky body. After a few moments of it, Alistair finally cried out, "Aedan! Get Duke off of me!"

I let myself have another chuckle before I whistled for Duke. He looked to me with his ears folded downward and a low whine. "Come on, boy. You can smother him with kisses later tonight," I said as I walked over to them.

Alistair's blue eyes widened at the thought of that and his protest was muffled as Duke gave one final lick before he stepped off of Alistair. I gave Alistair a hand to help him stand up, and he dusted his scale armor off as he noticed the barely contained bursts of laughter from the other wall guards. "What are you twits looking at," he yelled at them, then he turned around and walked off, more embarrassed than outraged.

I gave Duke one last chuckle as I started jogging after our frustrated friend. Duke fell into step beside me, panting happily as he trotted. When we caught up to Alistair, he was still wiping dog drool off of his face. "Ya know," he said when we was close enough to him. "You could take a mint every now and then, you big lug. It wouldn't be so bad if you had clean breath."  
Duke barked his acknowledgement, and I looked back to Alistair. "So where's this tower?"  
Alistair pointed behind him, to the tallest part of Ostagar. "We've got to get up there, but from what I've heard of the battle plans, we have at least an hour, probably more," he explained.

I looked up at the massive tower, which seemed to touch the darkening evening sky. "Maybe we should get started," I said, still looking at the tip of the tower.

I heard the jingling of armor and looked down to see a guard running for us. A tingle crawled through me, part of it fear, part of it anticipation. From the looks of his worried expression and the splatter of blood across his armor, it looks like some of the fight had already begun.

"Alistair," the guard cried, getting the templar to spin around. The guard ran all the way up to us, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. "Darkspawn...in the...tower," he said in between breaths. Sweat glistened on his brow and trickled down his face as he stood up.

"Darkspawn," Alistair cried. "No, they couldn't be!"

"What's wrong, Alistair," I asked him. "I thought you wanted to be in the fight?"

"Er, I, uh," he stammered. "This is just unexpected, is all."

"Well, I can tell you what I'm expecting," I said as I unshouldered my shield, the shield of Highever, another family heirloom. "Darkspawn blood spilling the ground," I growled as I strapped the shield to my arm.

I looked to the guard and said, "Lead us back to the tower." The guard saluted and turned around, hurrying off with us right behind him. We passed by some of the castle's tents, but more ruins than anything else. Ostagar was practically falling apart, the main gate and forward walls virtually the only things left intact in the once proud fortress. That, and the tower that held the beacon. Our mission was to light the beacon, although with darkspawn already within the tower, it probably wouldn't be easy. I felt my jaw tighten; it shouldn't be easy.

It wasn't long before we could hear the sound of a battle ahead; metal striking metal, grunts and yells, warcries and feral screams, the chants of a mage and the blast of lightning. I slid my family's sword from its sheath. The sword itself was marvelous, a straight edged, two sided sword with a cross guard that gently curved, facing the tip of the blade. The pommel was set with a sapphire, the Cousland crest of twin olive branches growing up from a rose. The sword would soon be covered with red, performing its grisly work.

We came around a fallen column to look upon a few of Cailan's soldiers that he had posted guard near the tower fighting at least a dozen darkspawn. The mage was doing his best to keep the monsters at bay, using his lightning spells and other combat spells. I wasn't too familiar with the intricacies of magic, but knew that it was dangerous to even think about it.

"Go, Duke," I cried, speeding up to a run at the sight of the creatures.

Duke gave a howl and sprinted ahead, easily making the distance in a few moments. He leapt and buried one of the shorter gemlocks underneath his body, tearing away at its throat was his jaws.

I gave a roar as I charged into the fray, paying no heed to what Alistair was trying to tell me. One of the larger darkspawn turned to faced me. Hurlocks, I think they were called. No matter what they were called, I lowered my shoulder behind my shield and bowled over the massive creature. Rolling back up to my feet, I stood swinging my shield, slamming it into one of the beast's jaws. Blood rolled out of its mouth as my sword slid into its chest. I kicked it off my blade and threw up my shield to block an incoming sword. Spinning with the blow, I sliced around with my sword, nicking one of the genlocks on the cheek. Finishing my spin, I slammed the pommel onto the top of one of the hurlock's heads. There was a loud crack and it stood there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. I ended its confusion with a slash to the neck.

The genlock whose cheek I had cut had come to return the favor, slashing its rusty short sword across my sword arm. It was a fierce strike, though thanked the Maker I had traded my splintmail for the sturdier chainmail. Now, the mail ensured it would be a bad bruise, and nothing more. I returned it by punching with my shield catching its nose with the rim. It fell to the ground, but managed to keep enough of its mind to try to scramble away. It managed to roll to its stomach and almost got to its feet. When it was on its hands and knees, I drove the tip of my sword through its back, revelling in the sickly sweet sound of metal sliding through skin, scraping against bone.

I turned to survey the rest of the battle. It was nearing its end, Alistair and one of the guards facing the last Hurlock, whom, I had to admit, was holding its own against two swords with its shield, attacking whenever it could find the opening. One of the guards lay dying, trying to hold in his intestines, for his stomach had been torn open by a darkspawn sword. The mage was hard at work, casting a spell to end the life of a genlock that was charging it. He outstretched his hand, a jagged bolt of lightning bursting from his hand, scorching the genlock. It fell face first onto the ground without another breath. I started to move, but felt searing pain in my left leg. I couldn't suppress the cry of pain, and turned to see one of the genlocks lying on its belly, the fierce determination in its eyes keeping it alive long enough for one final blow. Its determination couldn't hold out against the rim of my shield as I slammed it down on its head as hard as I could.

With a grunt, I jerked its knife out of my leg and limped over to help Alistair and the guard. However, before I had closed the distance, Duke flew into view, slamming into the hurlock's back with a howl. It had no chance against Duke's powerful jaws as they closed around the back of the darkspawn's neck, Duke breaking its neck with several vicious jerks.

It was then that I noticed my labored breath, the warm, sticky blood that was splattered on my face. However, there was no fear. Only thrilled exhiliration at the battle, the spilling of evil blood. _How much have I lost myself over the past month_, I thought. One of the Ash warriors I had spoke to while in the camp said it was like that for them, that there was no fear, no pain, only the joy of ending darkspawn lives. Surely that wouldn't have happened so soon.

Alistair walked up to me, seeming just as exhausted as I was. He glanced down at my limp, worry creasing his brow. "You're hurt," he said simply.

I waved my shield at the notion, dismissing his worry with, "It's just a scratch. I'm fine."

He set his sword down and started digging into his belt. "If that's a scratch, then I'm a hairless gopher." Finding what he was looking for, he handed me a small vial full of a bright red liquid. "Here, drink this potion. It should help," he explained.

I accepted the vial and downed it in a single gulp. The sweet liquid was thick, like ale, although as soon as I swallowed it, I felt my leg itching. Soon, there was a blessed cessation of pain, and I turned to see that my leg had stitched itself back together in moments. I bounced on my leg to be certain that it was fine, and felt no pain.

I nodded and said, "Much better. We need to keep a few of those handy."

The mage walked up to us and said, "We'll need more than a few, I fear. There were screams closer to the tower before these monsters rushed us. I'm afraid darkspawn have already infiltrated the tower."

Alistair met my worried glance with his own concern; that wasn't good. "We should be quick then," I said. "We may miss the signal if we have to battle through a horde of darkspawn to get to the top of the tower."

Alistair nodded grimly and turned to the mage and guard, ordering them to follow us. I turned to Duke, who was already by my side, panting lightly with what looked like a silly grin on his face. Well, it would've been silly had it not been covered in black blood. "You ready, boy," I asked him, and gave a bark in reply, eager to continue on the mission.

I nodded and jogged towards the entrance of the tower. There were indeed more yells, more screeches of metal striking metal. We came upon a short patch of grass maybe thirty yards long, rubble strewn across the ground. To the left was the stairs leading up to the tower, two pillars on either side of the staircase. An arrow streaked by me, whistling next to my ear before I could bring my shield up. A genlock stood atop the closest pillar, already nocking another arrow.

"Take out that archer," I ordered the mage, the only one of us capable of ranged combat. He nodded and his face firmed into concentration, his hands already in the throes of another spell. "Guard the mage," I barked, placing myself, and my shield, in between the archer and mage, Alistair and the guard doing the same, trying to cover up as much of the mage as they could. Duke barked angrily, awaiting the order to charge.

I barely heard the twang of the darkspawn's bow before an arrow slammed into my shield. I heard a cry behind me as the mage yelled, "Down!"

I dropped to my knee just as a white ball shot ahead, slamming into the genlock's chest and toppling from its perch.

"Go," I screamed to everyone, Duke immediately rushing into a charge. He practically flew up the steps, catching a running darkspawn unawares as he clamped down onto its leg and dragged it to the ground. The rest of us were at the bottom of the stairs as another arrow whistled by, slamming into the guard's shoulder. He grunted, ignoring the pain, and continued his flight up the stairs.

We were met by half a dozen darkspawn, screeching their unholy battle cries. I charged a hurlock, eager to end its life. When only a few feet from it, I ducked underneath my shield, holding it above my head. I felt its axe slide off my shield, and I sent my sword forth, stabbing the creature underneath its armpit. The tip of my sword came through the other side, a wave of blood splashing forth. It gurgled as I slid my sword out of its side, bringing my shield to bear just as another darkspawn swung its wicked sword at me.

I slashed at its chest, but it managed to block my sword. I managed to ignore the jolt long enough to sweep its legs out from under it, stabbing my sword into its chest. It grappled with my sword, pain and fear creased across its ugly face. I twisted my sword viciously, ending its pain. Pulling it out with a jerk, I parried another sword with no time to spare.

Huddling underneath my shield, I bowled it over like before, stomping down on its throat as I passed. Stumbling from the tangle of its arms and legs, I felt something slam into my shield, throwing me to the ground. A genlock clung to the shield, viciously trying to stab over the shield with a small knife. I bucked my hips, throwing its small body to the side. I rared back, and slammed the rim of my shield into its chest. Hauling myself up to my feet, I finished it with a quick slash the throat.

I spun around, surveying the battlefield with a quick glance. There were six more guards from the tower, battling desperately with darkspawn, dodging and blocking blows as fast as they could. Alistair slew the hurlock he was fighting with a thrust the chest, and the mage was in the motions of a spell. The on guard that was with us before was lying on the ground, his chest torn open. His eyes watched me with dead stare.

From the center of the battle, a mighty roar vibrated through the air, and a darkspawn, larger than the other hurlocks, stepped into view, a massive axe held in its muscular hands. A strangely wrought horned helm sat on its head, and red eyes gleaned forth from the shadows within its helm. They fell on me, and it issued another roar, this one of challenge. I charged forth without another thought, yelling out, "Highever!"

The darkspawn closed the distance as well, hefting its wicked axe high above its head. When we were only feet away, it swung its axe downwards. I dove to the side, desperately swinging for its chest. My sword bounced off of its armor with a clang, the half hearted strike not even making a dent. The darkspawn stumbled a bit from the strength of the swipe, giving me time to pull myself to my feet.

We eyed each other as we slowly circled the other, searching for any weakness in our stances. The darkspawn charged, a fierce cry erupting from its throat. I stood my ground for a moment, but bent backwards as the axe sliced through air where my head was, a small gust of wind kissing my face.

I threw myself forward, leading with the tip of my sword. The creature managed to squeeze by the thrust, sucking its stomach in enough to narrowly avoid the strike. It brought its axe high over its head again, much quicker than I could expect. I barely stepped the side as the axe planted itself into the . ground. I could feel the vibrations of the strike in the bottom of my feet.

With another roar, the beast threw itself at me, tackling me to the ground. I landed on my back with a jerk, the darkspawn's weight slamming the wind out of my lungs. I felt my arm pinned against my chest, the weight of the creature crushing my chest. It's muscled hands wrapped around my neck, trying to throttle the life out of me. I struggled underneath its weight, trying to throw it off, but couldn't. Black creased around the edges of my vision, my limbs feeling weightless as I choked on the air.

I shoved my blade downwards, hoping to strike its stomach. It cried out with pain, the weight immediately receding as it threw itself off of me. I rolled to the side, ignoring the lack of air in my lungs as I stood to my feet. I felt dizzy as I stabbed my sword forward, catching it under the chin. The sword slid easily into its head, cracking through its skull, and erupting from the top of its head, covered in bits of gray gore.

I jerked my sword out of its skull, suddenly feeling very old and weary. I looked up, seeing that two of the guards had fallen, one trying to hold his blood inside his body as it groped for his throat, his mouth open in a bone chilling gurgle. The other was still, his back turned to my, his head a few feet away from his body.

Two of the guards finished off the last genlock, each stabbing it with their swords. Duke was tearing at the throat of an already dead hurlock. Alistair walked up to my side, a shallow cut along his forehead. "It's going to be a long night," he said. "Too bad we can't have a few women and ale, huh?"

"Last I saw, you weren't too good with the ladies," I teased, surprising myself by how lightly I could speak the joke after killing so many. Alistair allowed me a light chuckle of his own, allowing himself the slight respite from the carnage.

We waited for the small band to regroup, and in all, we had four of the tower guards, the mage, Duke, Alistair, and myself. I had my eyes closed, trying to steel myself for the battles that would surely follow. I felt someone nudge me, and glanced to see Alistair. He barely tossed his head towards the group, and I turned to see every pair of eyes staring intently at me. Some were nervous, some scared, some angry, but all were looking to me, searching for leadership.

I felt squeamish under the stares of so many, and barely suppressed the shiver that crawled up my spine. I glanced to Duke, who was watching me with cooly. He was also waiting for orders, but there was patience in his intelligent eyes. He leaned forward to lick my sword hand, the knuckles of my hands bone white from gripping the hilt tightly in my anxiety. I took a deep breath to steady myself, gaining confidence from my hound, my wonderful hound.

I faced the stares with renewed determination. _I will not fail you, Father_, I thought to myself. "This is our duty," I said, feeling the steely determination in my voice. "We are Grey Wardens, and this is our mission. We will not fail." I received assuring nods from everyone of them, each of them willing to fight, and die, for the Grey Wardens, for the fate of Ferelden. I turned for the tower entrance, no more weariness in my step, consoled by the strength of my new family.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I placed my foot on the genlock I had just finished slaying, pulling my sword out of its stomach. If I thought I was weary before we even entered the tower, I was exhausted now. My body ached to my very bones, not to mention the bruises and small cuts and nicks that littered my body. I glanced down at my shield, noticing the amount of scars that covered it already. _And this is just the first fight of many_, I thought darkly. I didn't know how much longer my shield, one half of my legacy, would last in my life as a Grey Warden. My sword, on the other hand, looked just as sharp as it had since my great grandfather carried it. Darkspawn blood covered the beautiful blade, black liquid dripping from its tip.

I glanced to Alistair, who was also looking around at the rest of the group. We had made it to the top of the tower, although it hadn't been easy. Two of the guards had fallen quickly, burned to death by a grease trap that had been set aflame. Their screams of torment still lingered in my ears.

Another fell at the hand of half a dozen darkspawn that managed to overwhelm him, tearing him apart with their axes and swords. If it hadn't been for the kennel of mabari hounds we had come across, I didn't even know if we could have made it this far. Ambushes, overwhelming forces, darkspawn at every turn; we had barely made it here with our lives. And now we were almost through, our mission almost complete.

The Circle mage, three guards, Duke, Alistair, and myself were all that remained of the band we had started with. Only three fell, but all three was a brother lost to me. I threw my head back and let out a long sigh, trying to relax and ease the tension in my back and neck. _Was this what it's going to be like to face evil on an everyday basis_, I thought. Perhaps. But it was a fight that I was willing to make.

Alistair rushed by me, his splint mail armor jingling as he trotted by. "Let's be quick. We may have already missed the signal," he urged, and threw open the doors leading to the beacon room.

I was quick to follow him in, only to slide to a stop at the sight that was before us. Bent over the corpse of a fallen guard was the largest, most monstrous, _ugliest_ thing I had ever seen. It turned to us, muscles in its back and neck twitching with every movement. Large tusks protruded from its lower jaw, and a malevolent glean shone in its black eyes. Large, black horns twisted their way out from the top of its head.

It threw its grisly meal away, and the guard's body landed with a thump against a column in the room. The beast stomped its foot and bared its chest to us, releasing the most terrible roar I had ever heard. Spittle flew from its mouth, as much blood from the corpse as there was drool.

I quickly regained myself, readjusting my grip on my sword. I started barking orders, as much to keep myself calm as to give the others a purpose. "Alistair, we're going to distract the thing! Guards, surround it, buy the mage some time. Mage, you'll circle around its back, try to find a weak spot if you can. Use your most powerful spells if you have to. Duke, go and get him!"

Duke charged headlong for the beast, howling as he did. The monster swung a massive fist for him, but the wily hound hopped to the side at the last minute, barely avoiding the blow. The entire room shook from that strike, and I gulped nervously before I moved in.

I ran forward, screaming as loud as I could to get the darkspawn's attention. It turned to me, black hatred in its eyes. It roared again, taking a step forward. Alistair was right beside me as I charged into the fray, dodging the beast's fists, barely escaping its vicious swings. The guards formed up around the thing, striking whenever the beast wasn't turned at them, creating small nicks and cuts that didn't seem to faze the monster.

A lightning bolt shot through the air, slamming into the beast's back. It stumbled forward, screaming with rage and pain. It raised its foot in the air, and slammed it down with bone shattering force. I fell to the floor, unable to keep my balance. As soon as I hit the stone floor, I rolled away as fast as I could. One of the guards wasn't quite as lucky; the beast scooped him up into one of its fists. The man struggled in the fearsome grip, screaming in terror as the beast brought itself mere inches from its face. A single clench forced the man into nothing more than a meaty string of pulp. The beast threw the mess away and charged another guard.

Taking the time to survey the room, I tried to come up with a plan. We obviously couldn't stop the thing with brute force, it was just too strong. The room itself was more or less circular, an immense pile of rubble stacked in the middle of the room. It looked like mostly wood and other flammable things, probably to keep the massive beacon lit. Six pillars stood equally throughout the room in a rough hexagonal shape. The beacon itself was more like a monstrous fireplace in the left side of the wall, enough logs and hay stacked in it to keep it burning for hours.

_Think, think, think_, I said to myself, watching as the beast swatted another guard with the back of its hand. The guard flew fifteen foot through the air to slam into the wall with a bone crunching sound. He landed in an unceremonious heap, and didn't move. The last guard rolled away from the beast's foot, using the brief respite to back out of the range of the beast's long arms. The mage finished another spell, a ball of fire flying forth from his hands. The beast saw it and ducked, the ball slamming into the wall with an explosion.

I suddenly remembered the grease trap where we had our first two casualties. I glanced at the pile of rubble; wood, hay, coal. All of it could _burn_.

"What are we going to do, Aedan," Alistair asked, his voice trembling only slightly from fear.

"I've got an idea," I told him, and turned for the mage, who was already preparing another spell. When I reached him, I had to interrupt him; we didn't have much time.

"Can you create something similar to the grease trap that was on the first floor," I asked him after roughly shaking him. At first, he was appalled at what I had just done. From what I had heard, a mage was making a deal with the devil whenever he casted a spell. The magic arts required the mage to dance with demons, using their power to cast their spells. He could have easily been killed, or worse. But once he heard my request, he thought quickly. "I, I have something similar to it I suppose. It'll be a bit slicker than that trap. What do you have in mind," he answered, his face curious.

"Get ready to cast it at the ogre's feet on my command. As soon as you cast that, throw another fireball at the rubble behind it," I said, and then turned to Alistair. "Get everyone away from the beast," I called. No body could be in the radius of the spell, or they'd get caught. Alistair began calling for the guard, waving for him to come to him. The guard dodged a punch from the creature, but thanks to Duke biting at the darkspawn's heel, the guard was able to use the beast's lapse in attention to sprint away.

"Duke," I yelled, calling the dog to me. However, Duke flew towards me instead, the beast's foot kicking him away. His body cannoned into me, bowling me to the ground. He whined as I slid out from under him and gave my hand a weak lick. "It'll be okay, boy. I'm going to kill this thing," I promised him. He gave a weak grunt, and laid his head down, his breath shallow. I ran behind the darkspawn, far enough out of its reach so that it couldn't swing at me. I looked back to make sure I was directly between it and the pile of rubble, and then screamed at the darkspawn. "Hey, you big great sack of horse dung! I bet that thing on top of your between your ears is nothing but a big rock!"

The beast turned to me, having the brains to look insulted at what I said. "Yeah, that's right! You idiot of a monster! You don't even know when someone's calling you names!" It was really a feeble attempt to insult _anything_, but it seemed to work. The massive creature stomped its foot, let out a roar, and charged for me.

I had to stand my ground for my plan to work, but it was the most terrifying thing I had ever done. I had to do my best to not piss myself, but wasn't really sure if it worked. I didn't care. Anyone who had ever done this would just have to understand. When the thing was only a few feet away, I screamed at the mage, "Now!"

I managed to take a step and leap, right as the grease covered the floor. The monster lost its balance and fell to its back, still sliding across the floor. However, its hand caught hold of my foot, stopping me in midair and bringing me into the pile of rubble with it. I slammed against its chest, and fear shot through me as I saw out of the corner of my eye a ball of fire. Coming straight for us.

I heard Alistair scream, "Aedan!" just before the ball exploded onto the rubble, the ogre, and myself. Agony unlike anything I had ever known washed over my skin, heating my armor to the point of scalding. My blood felt like it was boiling, and my skin was already blistering. I couldn't help but let loose a scream, but even the air that I had to suck in burned my lungs.

The beast screamed as well, thrashing its arms and legs as it tried to remove itself from the pile of rubble. Its moving form underneath me bringing one thought to mind; _finish the mission_. Somehow fighting through the pain, I clambered up the monster's chest, feeling every inch of my body bubbling and popping with shrieking agony. Even the effort to stand was the purest horror I had ever had to achieve, but it had to be done. As I raised my sword, my scream of terror became one of finality, acceptance, purpose. My life as a Grey Warden hadn't been long, but this was worth it. To save my new family, to save Duncan and Alistair and King Cailan, to rescue Fereldan from the darkness of the Blight, to honor my Father, and my Mother, and my brother all, to bring justice to all evil to the world, I struck. My sword stuck partly into the throat of the ogre, its thick hide reluctant to part for even the steel of my blade. I forced it through, shoving it down with my weight, twisting and turning, doing everything I could possibly do with my wretched, burning body to kill this monster.

The sword sank deeper and deeper, inch by bloody, merciful inch, until the ogre finally quit screaming, its life drained away by my sword and flames. Then, I remember falling off the mound before blackness covered me up.

The rest was in patches; I remembered being dragged away from the flaming mound, while myself was still covered in flames. Blackness, and then I saw Alistair over me, beating the flames away with a blanket he had found. I managed to turn my head, although my neck responded slowly, the world around me spinning. The last remaining guard was hard at work to set the beacon aflame. I saw a small flame beginning as the blackness swept me under again. I felt myself falling, instinctively knew that I was dying. I forced myself back, hearing the boom of thunder in the distance. With the darkness still clouding my vision, I saw the door bursting open, a swarm of darkspawn piling through the doors. There was a blast from the mage, killing three of them, although there were at least a dozen more to replace them. Charging, they killed the guard with ease. One of the hurlocks ran up to me, and I heard screams from the mage. I raised my arm in front of my face, a weak defense for its boot. Then it all died, everything going dark as the blackness swallowed me whole.

I slowly woke to a thatched ceiling above me. I was in a simple, though admittedly comfortable, bed, covered by a wool blanket. A small crackled somewhere in the direction of my feet. I tried to sit up, but was immediately assaulted by my muscles screaming at me, angry at being moved after laying still for so long. I grunted as I tried to ease myself back to a more comfortable position on the cot.

_Wait a minute!_ I was supposed to be dead. I raised my hands in front of my face; the palms were completely unblemished, not so much as a blister. What happened?

I turned them over, and was amazed by the cleanliness there as well. I tore off the blanket to find that the rest of my body was just as unscarred. I had to feel the skin, make sure the muscles and bones weren't some figment of an imagination. I touched my stomach, chest, then my neck, and finally my face. I winced when I did. The right side of my face was as smooth as before, while the left was...different. It was rough, and I could feel the scars that had obviously torn at the skin. So it wasn't a dream...

I heard a door creak open, and I glanced up to see a feral looking woman walk in. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and her eyes shone with a golden light. She had angular features, almost looking like a cat, and she wore a dress that seemed more like a collection of rags to cover her pale skin.

She spoke first. "Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother will surely be pleased." I did my best to sit up, gingerly moving my groaning muscles. "I am Morrigan," she continued, "lest you have forgotten, and we are in the Wilds where I have just bandaged your wounds. You are welcome, by the way."

Morrigan...the name certainly rang a bell. I searched her face for a few moments before I recognized her. Ah, she was the woman they had met at the Warden ruins when they retrieved the documents, the so called 'Witch of the Wilds.' "How does your memory fare," she asked after a moment. "Do you remember Mother's rescue?"

I tried to think of what had happened that night, but all I could remember were flames, the sound of screaming darkspawn, and then blackness.

"No," I said finally. "I remember nothing."

"Mother managed to save you, though it was a close call. What is important is that you live." Morrigan stopped then, seeming to hesitate. "The man who was to respond to your signal...quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred."

A wave of despair washed over me. All of the Grey Wardens gone? Massacred? It couldn't be! What about Duncan? King Cailan? They were warriors. They had to have survived, at least managed to have escaped somehow...

No. That was the highest improbability. However powerful they were, they were two men against a wave of darkspawn. An image of that battle entered my mind, thoughts of ogres and darkspawn swords trampling through the Warden ranks.

The next emotion was rage. My new family was gone again, killed by the actions of a traitor. Again! I couldn't resist the animal-like growl that resonated from my throat. Morrigan seemed perturbed by that, and coughed to gain my attention.

I stopped the growl and looked back up at her. There was another man to feel the steel of my sword. My sword! I glanced around the room, looking to see if my equipment had been salvaged. I didn't see my sword, nor my shield. Panic gripped me; no! I couldn't have lost them!

I turned to Morrigan and pleaded, "My sword! Did your mother manage to find my sword?"

Morrigan seemed curious about the question. "No, mother mentioned nothing about a sword. Why do you ask? 'Tis only a sword."

I covered my face with my hands as sorrow washed over me. My entire legacy, the only thing left to me by my family, was gone! Lost to the clutches of darkspawn. "It was my father's, and his father before him," I explained to her in a low tone. "My family was betrayed by a man named Arl Howe. They were all slaughtered."

Morrigan had the grace to look somewhat appalled. "Ah..." She allowed me a moment to grieve before handed a set of clothing; nothing more than simple breeches and a rough shirt. "Here. You may want to slip into these to make yourself more...appropriate."

It took me a moment to realize what she was talking about, until I looked down to see that I was completely nude. I quickly slipped the breeches over my legs, pulling them up and the tying the string around my waist as my cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Alistair, what of him," I asked, ashamed that I only now thought of him.

Morrigan's face twisted a bit in annoyance, and her irritation was clear as she said, "The suspicious dimwitted one who was with you before? He is outside, by the fire. He did not take the news well. I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish."

"I would agree," I said, letting the full brunt of my disapproval seep into my voice.

"And do you think they would encourage his blubbering? If so, they are not the sort of Grey Wardens the legends note," she retorted. I let the resentment go at her statement, admitting that she had spoken truly; Duncan would not approve us mourning his loss so when there was still so much to do.

"Mother asked to see you when you awoke," she said as she handed me the shirt. When I took the shirt, she turned for the door. Despite my resentment and overall sorrow for what had happened, this callous woman saved my life. "Thank you for helping us, Morrigan," I said, letting her hear the appreciation in my voice.

Morrigan turned back to me, looking completely shocked at the gratitude. "I...you are welcome. Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." She seemed a bit embarrassed at my words, although it quickly passed.

"Were my wounds severe," I asked as I shrugged into the rough shirt, ignoring the stiff muscles in my back and shoulders.

"Yes," she replied, hesitation in her eyes. "There were terrible burns all over your body, but I expect you'll be fine. There was nothing Mother could not heal."

"Except this," I said stoicly, gingerly touching the left side of my face with my fingertips. Morrigan seemed to grimace a bit at that, not so much at the sight of my face, but in agreement of my statement.

"Is Alistair alright? I mean, was he seriously wounded," I asked.

"He is...well, there was also nothing Mother could not heal. I nearly had to beat him out of the room for Mother to concentrate her powers on you," she said as she opened the door and stepped out. I followed her into the sunlight that suddenly flooded into the room. The first step I took, I was assaulted by the salty, sour smell of the swamp around me. I didn't mind though; it was a welcomed respite from the stinging scent of darkspawn blood.

Immediately in front of the small hut was a clearing, and in the center of it was a rather large pot that had steam rolling up from it. A small fire was underneath the pot, heating the black cauldron as its flames licked the metal. A brief image of flames surrounding me entered my thoughts, although I locked the twinge of fear away.

Standing next to the pot was Alistair, and a rather older woman. Duke was lying on the ground, and he turned at the sound of two pair of feet. He barked happily at the sight of me and ran to me, nuzzling against my leg and begging to be pet. The older woman turned as well, saw me, and glanced back at Alistair. "See," she said with a wry smile. "Here is your fellow Warden. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair saw me and rushed over, the tension in his shoulders visibly leaving him as relief flooded through him. "You...you're alive," he cried as he reached me and wrapped me up in a hug. My back, shoulders, and arms screamed in protest, but I didn't push him away. I was just as relieved as he was, knowing I wasn't the only one that had made out alive. "I thought for sure you were dead," he said when he released me, letting out a small chuckle of disbelief.

"You honestly thought I'd miss out on Duke burying you in kisses, did you," I shot back with a teasing smile. He gave a laugh at that, but must've seen how my face contorted, due to my new...scars. He recovered quickly though, saying in a far away tone, "This doesn't seem real."

He let out a sigh and said with a stronger voice, "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," Morrigan's mother scolded strictly. I managed a snicker as I glanced down at Duke, who also had a wide grin on his face.

"I didn't mean...but what do we call you," Alistair stammered, his cheeks burning a rosy red. "You never told us your name."

The older woman dismissed it with a wave of her hand, saying, "Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

Alistair's jaw seemed to fall to the ground. "_The _Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right! You're the Witch of the Wilds."

"And what does that mean," Flemeth growled. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?"

This, Flemeth, turned to me and asked, "And you? Are you going to drop your jaw at the sight of me? Hmm?"

I gave her a careful, and chose my words with care. "I tend to not believe in myths and legends until I see them for myself, or there is evidence that prove they exist."

Flemeth gave me a nod of approval, saying, "A wise choice, indeed. It would be foolish to gape at every story told."

Alistair turned to me, astonished, and said, "You've never heard of Flemeth? She's the Witch of the Wilds! A woman of many years, and much power."

Flemeth cackled at that, saying, "Age and power are relative - it depends on who is asking. Compared to you two, yes, on both accounts. But enough of this."

She turned to Morrigan and flicked her hand. "Come Morrigan, let us leave these two to talk. I imagine they have much to discuss." Flemeth turned abruptly and whisked away, far more quickly than I would've expected of someone her age, especially in the middle of a muddy swamp. Morrigan gave us one last glance before she followed her mother.

As soon as they left, the gravity of everything that had happened hit me again. I sat down next to the hut, suddenly wanting the support. Alistair moved to sit down next to me, probably needing it as much as I did. Duke laid his head in my lap, his ears folded against his head as he understood the sudden mood in the air.

There was a long moment of silence between us. All that broke it was the sound of the bullfrogs that I hadn't noticed before, the soft crackle of the fire, and a gently breeze that managed to blow through the trees. Neither of us wanted to break it, lest it disturb the peaceful sounds of the forest life, shattering the illusion that everything was alright.

I spoke first, knowing that we both needed the release. "This shouldn't have happened," I said softly, more to the wind than myself or Alistair. I began to slowly pet Duke's head.

Alistair shook his head in agreement, his grief-stricken eyes focused on the forest around us. There was another moment of silence before Alistair spoke, his voice soft and full of memory.

"He saved me, you know, Duncan. He saw how unhappy I was at the Chantry, and he conscripted me, much to the displeasure of the Sisters. I don't see why they did; I was a big enough problem for them." A small smile creased his lips, but it was soon gone as the memory flicked away.

"He was the first person that actually cared about what I wanted," he said, his voice trembling with grief. "He was like the father I never had."

Sorrow struck me as I remembered my own father, but I pushed it away. Alistair needed to vent. It wouldn't be right for me to interrupt. My emotions could wait.

"You didn't know your father," I asked gently, prompting him to continue. He hesitated for a moment, as if he was uneager to reveal something.

Finally, he shook his head and said, "No. You could say I'm a bastard child. The Chantry found me, and took me in. I was miserable since then. The day Duncan brought me into the Grey Wardens was the happiest day of my life."

I was quiet as he sighed quietly, and then said, "It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes that I had been with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him."

I nodded quietly, knowing how that felt. "Of course, I'd be dead then, wouldn't I," he said with one of his wry smiles.

I offered him a smile in return, and then said, "I know what you mean by feeling like you abandoned him." I stopped for a moment to make sure my voice would hold out for me, I explained. "When Arl Howe betrayed us and attacked our castle in the middle of the night, he slaughtered everyone he found. He took no prisoners, I suppose hoping to come up with whatever story he liked when he was through. My mother and I," Duke barked then, making sure that he wasn't forgotten. "And Duke," I said, giving him a rough, but affectionate, rub on his head. "Fought through to the main hall, where Ser Gilmore, a friend, told us that my father had been gravely wounded. Still, he had made his way to the kitchen, where there was a servant's entrance that we could use to escape."

I stopped, and closed my eyes, reveling and, at the same time, cursing the memory. "When we got to the kitchen, he was in the larder. He was laying on the floor, covered in blood. There was this horrible gash across his chest..." I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and my lower lip trembled. "There was just so much blood," I said, my throat closing up from the knot. I sniffled and wiped away the tear, trying to be strong for Father.

"He looked to me and said, 'Pup, you're still alive!' There was this hope in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe that it was true. Then, Duncan was there. He said that Howe's men had the castle surrounded, but if they left now, they could probably make it out through the servant's entrance. But my father couldn't make it, said he wouldn't survive standing up."

"My mother wouldn't leave him there, said she would stay there with him to the end. Duncan told my father that I could come with him, become a Grey Warden. When Duncan first brought it up, he had scoffed at the idea, but then, I guess he knew it was the only way for me to live."

I unconsciously glanced to Alistair, who nodded, as much for encouragement as to let me know that he knew what I was talking about. I kept talking, saying, "Father said, 'Go, pup. Go and be a Grey Warden.' I had said, 'No, Father. I'm going to stay with you. I'm going to make Arl Howe pay for what he's done.' He had shaken his head, saying, 'No, son. Being a Grey Warden, fighting the Blight, that is your duty now. We Couslands, we have always put our duty before our personal feelings. This is what we have done since our line has been founded.' I had heard the banging of Howe's men, down the hallways of the castle. I had nodded and told them, 'I love you both.' My mother wrapped me up in her arms, and she had still smelled like the sweet perfume Father had always liked, even through all the blood. 'And I love you, my darling boy,' she said. Father said, 'I love you too, my dear son. Now go! Bring vengeance to Arl Howe and make him pay for what he's done!' And then, Duncan had to pull me away from them as Howe's men started pouring through the kitchen door."

We each sat quietly for a long time, both of us tormented in our own personal thoughts. I broke the silence again, not quite feeling relieved from the grief. "And I go and lose my family's sword," I said with a disgusted snort.

Alistair looked at me like I was crazy. "Aedan, you were burning alive! And you killed the ogre with that very sword! Not too bad of an end for any sword in my book."

"But that was my family's legacy, Alistair," I protested. "My father carried it into battle, like his father did before him! It was forged at the beginning of the Cousland line. And _I_ go and lose the sword! What a way to keep up the family legacy."

I felt utterly defeated then, having admitted the guilt to someone. Alistair was quiet for a moment, but then said, "Then create your own legacy. Become the Grey Warden you were born to be; not with a sword, or a shield, but with yourself. Become a man that your parents would be proud of, and that your children will proud of, and their children, and _their_ children. The history of a family isn't remembered by the sharpness of a sword, or the strength of a shield, but by the integrity of the man that wielded them."

I looked to Alistair, who was staring at me with a sort of determination that I had never seen in him before. I gave him a small smile, a _real_ smile, and clapped his shoulder with a hand. "You are a good friend, Alistair. I'm glad I have you by my side right now."

He clapped my shoulder and said, "And you by mine. But don't expect me to start holding your hand."

We chuckled at that, and the talk moved into more cheerful memories. The air was filled with the talk of childhood pranks, fond remembrances, and, surprisingly, laughter. The sun fell to the horizon, and the sky was colored a bright orange that meshed all too well with the pink and yellow that joined it. For those few hours, it seemed that the weight of our responsibility as Grey Wardens were thankfully lifted from our shoulders.

Morrigan and Flemeth came walking into view as Alistair finished a story about how he covered the floor in the Chantry with grease and had one of the cooks slipping and sliding down a hallway, ending with the stew in his hand flying all over him.

"Well, it seems you two are feeling better," Morrigan said, immediately moving to tend to the pot with a ladle.

"Ready to set aside your grief, I hope," Flemeth said as we stood up. "'In the dark shadows before you take vengeance,' my mother used to call it. Duty must come now, however."

"Duty? What are you talking about," Alistair asked in confusion.

"It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands in the face of a Blight, or did that change while I wasn't looking," Flemeth said, fixing a cold stare on us.

"But we _were_ fighting the darkspawn," Alistair retorted, the frustration evident in his voice. "The king had almost defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature," Flemeth said cryptically. I fixed her with a suspicious that she apparently didn't notice; how much did she actually know?

"Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver," she continued. "Perhaps he does not see the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon," Alistair growled, grinding his teeth in hatred as he did.

"Ah, old gods awakened and tainted by darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says it is a fearsome and immortal thing. And only _fools_ ignore history," Flemeth said lightly. It made me want to throw something at her.

"So we need to find and kill this Archdemon," I asked Alistair, who looked at me like I was crazy.

"By ourselves," he asked increduously, his voice rising to a ridiculous volume. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't even know how!"

"How to kill an archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me these are two very different questions, hmm," Flemeth asked dryly. "Have the Wardens have no allies these days?"

Alistair ran his hands through his hair as he thought. "I...I don't know. Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely!"

"Arl Eamon," I asked, the name somewhat familiar from Brother Aldous' teachings. "The Arl of Redcliffe?"

Alistair nodded his head absently, saying, "I suppose...he wasn't at Ostagar and still has all of his men. And he was Cailan's uncle, after all. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet."

His face brightened at a sudden thought. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

"What about the other nations though," I asked, thinking a single Arl wouldn't be enough. "Couldn't we go to other places? Surely others would help us."

Alistair thought for another moment, and then snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering something. "The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else...this sounds like an army to me," Flemeth said dryly, as if she was disappointed at how long it took us to realize this.

"So we can do this? I mean, actually do this," Alistair asked her uncertainly. "Go to Redcliffe and these other places and...build an army?"

"It seems you must to end the Blight, yes," Flemeth said. "So are you set then? Are you ready to be Grey Wardens?"

Alistair and I traded glances, and I looked to Flemeth. "It is our duty, and we will not fail our fallen brothers and sisters."

"Good," Flemeth said, nodding her approval. "You will leave here in a few days, once your wounds have fully healed. And when you do, I have one more thing to offer you. When you leave, Morrigan will be going with you."

Morrigan, who had been absently tending to the pot, had walked up at that statement, saying, "So Mother, will we have two guests or none..._what_?"

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears," Flemeth retorted, cackling at her own joke. A wry grin found itself on my own face as well, but it soon disappeared as I glanced at Alistair, who was obviously less than pleased at that proposition.

"Our thanks," I started, "But if Morrigan does not wish to join us..."

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth said sternly. "Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have I no say in this," Morrigan protested hotly, her own distaste evident.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance," Flemeth retorted cooly. Her eyes reflected her tone as she said solemnly, "They need you, Morrigan. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the Blight. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the hordes of darkspawn. Even I."

Morrigan took a deep breath and grudgingly said, "I...understand." I was sure I could hear her grinding her teeth, even this far away.

"As for you Wardens," Flemeth said as she turned to us. "Consider this repayment for you lives. Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all else in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed."

"We understand," I said gravely, understanding what it meant to give, possibly give up, the person you love the most for the sake of the greater good. "Thank you, Flemeth. And thank you, Morrigan."

Morrigan gave a brisk nod, while Flemeth bowed her head gravely. "Eat and rest tonight," Flemeth replied, gesturing to the pot. "Soon enough, you will have neither. Morrigan and I have preparations to make. We will return in the morning." Flemeth turned and whisked away like before, Morrigan close on her heels, practically stomping her feet in her frustration.

Alistair breathed a short sigh and said, "Well. That went rather well. Don't you think?" I gave him a short chuckle as I moved toward the pot. "Maybe we should let Flemeth face the Blight alone; surely her jokes will bore the archdemon to death!"

There was a short laugh, and we both found wooden bowls near the flames. I used the ladle to scoop some stew into the bowl, doing the same for Alistair and Duke. Before I dared drink the stew, I took a quick whiff of it first; Maker knows what Flemeth might decide would be a good meal. I voiced my thoughts to Alistair, who gave me a grave nod. "Aye, she probably threw in some frogs and bats," he said, eyeing his stew very carefully. Duke, on the other hand, was busy slopping the bowl's contents up as fast as he could. He was done in only a few moments, and he was quickly pawing at the empty bowl, whining for more.

"Wait your turn, Duke," I scolded lightly. "It's not polite to get seconds before everyone else hasn't even taken a bite."

He sat down with an exasperated huff, and I smiled and gave his head a quick rub. I poured some of my stew into his bowl before I took a sip myself.

"So," Alistair started hesitantly. "Mabari hounds are really as smart as people say they are?"

I gave him a shrug and asked, "What do you think? He understands what we're saying well enough."

Duke confirmed that by taking a break from he stew to nod his head at Alistair. Alistair shook his head disbelievingly at him and took a quick sip of his own.

I took another sip, and before I knew it, I was licking the bottom of the bowl. And I was still hungry! I ladled myself and Duke some more stew as I asked, "How long was I out?"

"Abowt phor days," Alistair mumbled around the stew in his mouth, having to tilt his mouth up to keep it from spilling from between his lips.

"Four days," I said, nearly screaming the words in disbelief. He nodded solemnly, saying, "Dead as doorknob. Trust me, I know. I slapped you a few times while Flemeth wasn't looking." He ducked as my soup bowl flew towards his head, laughing the entire time. I couldn't hide my own grin as I stood to retrieve the bowl. "And you wonder why I gave you that man hug earlier," he said at my back.

"Yeah, well, don't expect me to wear a skirt or anything. That's _your_ job," I shot at his back as I wiped the mud off of the bottom.

"That'll give the darkspawn a sight! Me, prancing down their lines in a pink skirt," he said, and we both burst out laughing. We continued eating in meaningless chatter, more to keep the thoughts of our grave mission away than anything else. When the sun had set fully, and the crickets came out to chirp in the dark night, I had put away nearly fourteen bowls of stew, compared to Alistair's four. Duke, however, beat us all with twenty six bowls, and was begging for more, even dipping his head into the cauldron to lick clean the sides.

Now, I lay within a bedroll on the floor, my hands crossed behind my head, Duke curled up beside me. His warm body rose and fell rhythmically, a sort of lullaby. However, I didn't feel like I would sleep all too well that night, visions of darkspawn hordes and burning buildings, dying men and women, slain children and all too much blood filling my mind. That was the cost of failure. That would happen if we didn't succeed.


End file.
